


Rhymes with Straight

by carryokee



Category: Bedrooms and Hallways (1998)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-23
Updated: 2008-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1630715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryokee/pseuds/carryokee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo finds a surprise waiting on his doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rhymes with Straight

**Author's Note:**

> Linaerys, I hope you like this. When I saw the request for "Bedrooms and Hallways" Brendan/Leo fic on the Yuletide Treats list, I couldn't believe it! I thought I was the only person on Earth who adored that movie. I also couldn't resist trying my hand at writing something. (Plus, it gave me an excuse to pull out my DVD and watch a few scenes.) Also, please keep in mind I'm an American, so my use of English slang my not be completely accurate. But I tried. It may not be exactly what you're looking for, but I gave it a shot. Enjoy.
> 
> Written for Linaerys

 

 

He'd come to the pub as a favor to Angie.

"Come on, Leo," she'd said, pouting through her full red lips and pushing out her boobs. At times, she seemed to forget just how much they did _not_ affect him. "I need you there. You can help me weed out the wankers." Then she'd laughed in her infectious way and Leo had given in.

Besides, it wasn't like he'd had anything better to do on a Friday night.

He stared intently into his pint as if he were trying to see his future in the swirl of foam on its surface and tried hard to tune out the conversation next to him. Bill. The guy's name was Bill and he had black hair and big hands and eyes for Angie. Or her breasts. Leo wasn't quite sure which yet.

He was quite sure, however, that his services as a buffer were no longer needed.

Taking another warm sip from his glass, he looked at the clock. It was almost ten o'clock and Angie was laughing. Leo knew that laugh; it was the carefree laugh of someone who was certain they weren't sleeping alone tonight. Of someone who knew that even if it was only temporary, there would at least be another someone sharing the same space with them for the next few hours.

As for Leo, all he could think about was the fact that if he hurried home, he could take a hot shower, crawl into bed, and watch the telly for the next couple hours before falling asleep.

And okay, so he was officially pathetic.

He reached for his wallet and dumped a few bills on the table, then touched Angie on the arm. "I'm off, then," he said, pushing away from the table. 

"Already?" Angie said, grabbing his arm. She looked up at him, a smile playing on her lips and a question in her eyes. "It's still early yet."

Leo smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "I'm knackered," he said apologetically. "It's a bit of telly and then off to bed, I'm afraid." He straightened and looked at Bill. "Nice meeting you, mate."

"You, too," Bill said and Leo noticed for the first time how dark his eyes were. Not just dark because of the dim light, but dark in color: the pupil bleeding into the iris until they were almost indistinguishable. Like those of someone he used to know but hadn't quite forgotten, even though he'd tried.

"Have her home by midnight, then," Leo said to him, smiling a little.

Angie nudged him. "Yes, Mum," she said, rolling her eyes as she laughed. "Now off you go, old man."

Leo squeezed her shoulder. "Goodnight, luv," he said, then tipped his head towards Bill across the table as he smiled. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he added in a whisper.

Angie laughed again. "Too late, darling," she said and touched his cheek.

As Leo headed for the door--both the crowd and heavy air suddenly too oppressive--he heard her call after him, "Don't wait up!" But the smile the words drew to his lips vanished as he stepped onto the sidewalk.

The last bits of laughter and conversation died as the door fell shut with a cheerful jingle behind him and he looked up at the sky. The stars were hidden by a blanket of gray clouds and the air was thick with the scent of rain. Neon signs reflected back at him from the surfaces of puddles crowding along the curbs. Snatches of voices greeted him from the open doors of pubs and restaurants. 

The city was filled with pairs, it seemed to him. Someone for everyone. Well, almost everyone.

Darren told him once he needed to simplify his vibrations. Of course, it was easy for Darren. He had Jeremy the Randy Real Estate Agent to keep him warm at night. Vibrations couldn't get any simpler than that. But Leo was a thinker. Alright, an over-thinker. But he couldn't help it. He wanted what he wanted. Was it so bloody wrong that what he wanted just happened to be everything?

Six months. It had been six months since his grand experiment with heterosexuality. Since he'd taken the plunge (so to speak) with Sally in search of something different, of something that would drag him out of the rut his life had been in for too long. It should've worked. After all, Sally was beautiful and soft and made him laugh. If anyone could've reminded him of the way his life had been before it became so complicated, it should have been her.

Only...

Only he couldn't stop thinking about the one person they had in common, whose name was on her mortgage and on his heart. Brendan. Bloody fucking Brendan. The beautiful bastard.

It annoyed him that Sally knew about the birthmark on Brendan's left hip. That she knew what Brendan tasted like, what he sounded like, what his skin smelled like. And that she knew all of that first, probably better than he, Leo, did.

The irritating thing was: Leo would bet his last twenty quid that if asked, Brendan would find the fact that Leo slept with Sally nothing more than an amusing tidbit. A fun fact to make him smile in that knee-weakening way of his as the lilt in his laughter warmed Leo's blood.

That was if Brendan ever came back from Thailand or Sri Lanka or Bangladesh or wherever the hell he trekked off to on his continuing quest to find himself. Apparently, the United Kingdom wasn't large enough, so he'd expanded his search to Asia, where he no doubt found plenty of people willing to aid him in his search.

But Leo wasn't bitter.

Of course, he only had himself to blame, really. Because in the end, his worst fear had come true: He'd fallen in love with a straight man. He hadn't meant to and he was still debating with himself whether Brendan was strictly straight (he had a few very vivid memories that supported his assertion that Brendan was a least a _little_ gay), but nevertheless, he'd fallen. He'd opened himself up for the hurt he knew would come. And no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, his feelings hadn't changed.

But he smiled anyway. He laughed with Sally and went shopping with Darren and dished about men with Angie. And he wore his loneliness beneath his skin. Maybe it wasn't invisible, but at least it wasn't blinding.

The front steps leading into his flat loomed ominously in the shadows and he stopped about twenty feet away, staring at the front door. What if Darren was home? He wasn't sure he could stand trying not to listen to the muted moans and squeaking bedsprings of another one of Darren's endless romps with Jeremy. He didn't begrudge his friend his happiness, but that didn't mean he needed the soundtrack.

He turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets. Lights were on in some of the windows in the building across the street, the muted glow of warm yellow light making his chest ache in a way he'd been trying to suppress for months. He pictured couples cuddled on the couch, limbs tangled comfortably as an old movie played on the telly. Maybe there were kids, too. And a dog.

And maybe rainbows shone through the bloody windows every morning and every day was bloody Christmas.

Right.

A light drizzle began to fall, haloing around the streetlamps, and he huffed in frustration. The dampness seeped onto his scalp, a couple drops growing heavy and dripping into the back of his collar. But he didn't move. The sudden reality of an empty flat--or worse, an occupied one--kept him where he was. At least in the street, he had the protection of anonymity.

"Hands in your pockets, peeking through windows. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a peeper."

Leo remembered the accent as if it hadn't been six months since he'd heard it last. He closed his eyes, conjuring the face that went with it.

"Leo."

"Did you have a nice trip?" Leo asked. It was the only thing he could bring himself to say. He opened his eyes, but didn't turn around, focusing instead on the young couple walking with arms linked on the other side of the street. A bubble of laughter burst then died in the air.

"If you don't count the two weeks of dysentery." Leo could picture the smile wrapped around the words and couldn't resist turning around to see if it was really there.

It wasn't. But the face...the face was the same. He opened his mouth to speak, but found he couldn't.

Brendan smiled tentatively. "Speechless," he said. "That's a first."

But it was the wrong thing to say. Sudden anger warmed Leo's skin. "What do you want, Brendan?"

"Leo--" Brendan's dark eyes widened as his smile slipped away.

"Did you _find_ yourself, then?" The words were bitter; Leo knew that. But he didn't care.

"I--" Brendan began, then took a breath. Drops of rain gathered in his hair, sparkling in the lamplight. "Yes. If you want to put it that way."

Leo shook his head, ignoring the raindrops that rolled down his temples. "I'm glad for you," he said. He brushed past Brendan and headed for the stairs, hating himself for feeling so bloody petulant.

"I missed you."

But Leo didn't stop, just kept right on walking, climbing the stairs to a flat that was blessedly dark and quiet. And it wasn't until he was closed up in his room, staring at the frame of light streaming in around the blinds that he acknowledged that the dampness on his cheeks wasn't just from the rain.

*

It only took him an hour to realize he really needed to know.

"I slept with Sally," he said to the back of Brendan's head when he opened the door and found him sitting on the steps, releasing the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

Brendan looked over his shoulder at him, one corner of his mouth turning up in a small smile. "I know," he said.

"Do you care?" Leo asked, meeting Brendan's eyes.

Brendan stood up, turning to look at Leo from the bottom step. "Do you want me to care?"

"I want--" Leo sighed. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I do."

Brendan just looked at him and Leo reached for the doorframe, digging in his fingertips until he could feel the grain of the wood against his skin. He watched in silence as Brendan climbed the stairs, as he stopped on the next to last step from the top. "Then I care, Leo," he said, his voice as smooth as warm honey. "In fact, I'm jealous as all hell."

Leo swallowed. "Of me or her?"

Brendan smiled and climbed the last step, crowding against Leo on the stoop. When Brendan kissed him, Leo could smell the rain against his skin, could feel the dampness of it beneath his fingers when he curled them into the front of Brendan's shirt.

There's a word for this, Leo thought.

It rhymed with `straight'.

The End 

 


End file.
